Out of Closet Doors
by MournfulSeverity
Summary: In their years together, Draco and Harry discovered love, loss, and everything in between. One shot collection for Drarryland:2019
1. The Smutty Collection

**With too much time on his hands, Harry explores the contents of Draco's bedroom. What he finds is far from innocent, but useful all the same.**

**Wow! so I have never written anything outside of Snape before, and nothing other than m/f, this was quite the adventure for me. I am very new to this pairing and trope. I hope I do it justice and that you enjoy! As it was mentioned in the summary, this is for Drarryland 2019.**

**Prompt: One of them has a secret collection. The other finds it. A minimum of 243 words. Do not use the words 'yes', 'no', or 'maybe'.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.**

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Harry laid across his stomach on the hunter green duvet. He traced the fleur de lis pattern with his finger, listening to Draco in the other room. The fabric was soft against his bare skin, silk. His chin, previously propped up on his hand, his elbow resting on the blanket, was dropped as his arm relaxed. "Draco." He groaned. "Hurry up."

Harry didn't receive a response, he heard only that of the pounding of water falling from the shower head, running across Draco's naked body. Harry licked his lips. He should have joined him. Instead, his eyes took in the surroundings as he looked for something that could entertain him. The black, paneled walls of Draco's bedroom, the equally dark, wood floor. The furniture inside it, including the bed that Harry laid on was equally ornate, just as pretentious as the Malfoy family themselves.

He was thankful that the fireplace in Draco's room was connected to the floo. It made these "meetings" easier to navigate and eliminated the need for Harry to formally meet Lucius and Narcissa. His past run ins with them had been unpleasant, to put it nicely. He couldn't imagine the two of them would take well to their son being gay. Draco wouldn't be producing any heirs, the pureblood line of "Malfoy" ending with him, with them. If the promises Draco had made were accurate, this relationship wouldn't be ending.

As if the pressure of being "the boy who lived" wasn't enough, "Harry Potter-Malfoy" was even worse. Harry was perfectly fine with their relationship as it was now. There wasn't a need to throw in complications when they were perfectly happy with one another.

"How much do you have to wash?" Harry grumbled, sitting up. Still nothing. He stared at the desk across the room – also black. Quills and bottles of ink rested on top of it. His eyes drifted to the silver handles of the drawer beneath, the cupboards. A wicked grin spread across his face.

He glanced quickly at the door to the bathroom before scrambling from the mattress. Draco was so secretive, this could be his chance to learn more about him.

He pulled on the drawer first, opening it and finding a mish mash of junk, odds and ends inside. He rummaged through the broken quills, the wadded pieces of parchment before giving up. There was nothing of substance there. The first cupboard proved to be better. He pulled a small, leather bound book from inside. The Malfoy family crest – green and black with a dragon on either side – adorned the front of the book. Beneath it, scrawled in silver, was "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper", the family motto. Harry scoffed to himself, remembering the meaning. Purity will always conquer, Draco had told him. It was the very thing Harry had just been contemplating.

He flipped the cover, finding yellowed pieces of parchment inside, pictures affixed to the pages. It was a photo album like the one Hagrid had given him so many years ago. The first picture consisted of a smiling Narcissa standing beside her husband. In her arms was a platinum blond bundle that could only be Draco. She bounced him up and down before turning to glance at Lucius and then the movement of the photo reset.

Flipping through the pages, he found much of the same. A young, growing Draco, beside his parents. The major difference in the photos was that the happiness of the older Malfoys seemed to dwindled with each photo. Harry remembered that too, the unhappiness Draco had spoke of between his parents, the tension, the fighting. Somehow, the pictures made Harry even more unhappy and he shut the album, returning it to it's hiding place and moving on. He shut the cupboard, going to the last one.

The first thing he saw upon opening it was a large, mahogany box. He smiled greedily, whipping it from within and tearing off the lid. Harry froze upon the sight of what was inside. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the rubber artifacts, at the collection that was so very muggle, and so dirty.

"Harry!" Draco snapped, his voice cold. "What are you doing?"

Harry looked up at him. A towel was tied loosely around the other boy's waist, as if teasing Harry about what was behind the simple cloth.

He reached into the box, wrapping a hand around one of the objects and lifting it up. "What are you doing?"

Draco laughed, his shoulders lifting and chest rising as he chuckled. "They're funny, aren't they?" He took the object from Harry. "It's a dick!"

"I'm aware what a dick looks like. I've seen my fair share. I happen to be the proud owner of one."

Draco approached the box, digging his hand inside and pulling something else out. "Look at this one, it looks like lips."

Harry looked at it, the long shaft and the "lips" that sat atop it. "Draco…those aren't-"

"And this one!" He removed a third, equally strange item. "Its like a bracelet."

"Draco." Harry forced, his own cheeks filling with blush. "Those are anal beads."

"Anal, what?"

"They go up your arsehole."

The beads dropped from his fingers, falling back into the box as Draco's cheeks turned a shade of bright red.

"They're sex toys, Draco." He flipped a switch on the dildo, causing it to vibrate.

"But they're…they're muggle…" Draco stammered in surprise. "I thought they were just funny looking, resembling genitalia and all…"

"Oh, they're muggle all right." Harry began, unable to help his laughter now. "But, that doesn't mean they don't use them."

"Use them?"

Harry's green eyes sparkled with interest as he glanced first at the still naked and dripping Draco and then the bed. "Why don't we give them a try?"


	2. Comfort in Unusual Places

**Summary: After the death of Sirius, the attack on his friends, and the possession of Lord Voldemort, Harry is destroyed. Memories that filled his mind bring him back to the one person that can make him feel safe, Draco Malfoy.**

**Prompt: Harry promised he'd be careful and stop being so reckless in the field, so when he's injured/cursed on a case, he seeks out the one person he knows won't tell Ron and Hermione: Draco Malfoy. Minimum: 420 words - Maximum: 1220 words. Either 1) Exes -OR- 2) Not Established Relationship.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling**

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It was like sucking in a cold breath, inhaling the frosty air of a winter night. The ice went immediately to his lungs, freezing them and making it near impossible to draw in another breath.

Harry could feel something inhuman crawling in his veins, forcing his own soul into the confines of his own being. He was no longer the only one residing there.

"You've lost, old man." The words came out distorted, not said in entirely Harry's voice and he was confused as memories blurred his vision, removing him further from the world beyond.

A high-pitched scream, one calling his own name met his ears, filled his mind. It was a sound only he and one other person knew. The two of them being the only living things in the home the night it had happened, the same two that were witnessing it now.

This wasn't the first time Harry had heard the scream of his mother, the first happening nearly three years ago, and he was sure it wasn't the last. Nevertheless, the agony that consumed her burrowed its way inside his heart as if it was happening now.

The scene morphed, changing into the all too familiar face of Cedric Diggory. Harry watched, again, as life was drained from the stone-gray eyes, Cedric's soft, brown curls falling still like the rest of his body on the dew-covered grass.

And then, there was Sirius. The death that had happened only moments ago. The chuckle, the sparkle of laughter beneath the man's mustache as he retaliated against his cousin, then the flash of a spell, another. The smile fell, toppling as Sirius did through the veil. He disappeared like an apparition. Harry felt his own screams wrench from his body, the devastation of losing his godfather, his friend.

They continued to change, morphing into one another so frequently that it would have been impossible to tell them apart had he not experienced them himself. The bloody face of Arthur Weasley, the dementors sucking out Harry's soul, the loneliness that threatened to take over him completely. Harry gasped, desperate for oxygen, desperate to be free of this parasite.

"So weak, so vulnerable." The voice of Voldemort spoke so only he could hear.

"Harry." The heavy brogue of Dumbledore, another man Harry so loved, broke through his torment. He strained his ears, willing himself to hear what the headmaster had to say. Anything was better than the fires of hell currently brewing inside of him. "…its how you are not."

And it was Hermione, her skin flushed pink with life, her mouth stretched into a smile of laughter. The rust colored locks of Ron came next, his own deep, chuckle mingling with that of Hermione's and Harry's. Memories of the three of them hugging, of their friendship.

Harry felt Voldemort lurch inside of him, fully a witness to everything that Harry was. Last, was an image of a blonde boy, his face angular and cruel. Of Draco, throwing a sneer in his direction, "Potter" said with more distaste than someone who had swallowed a dung beetle.

His last name fell from Draco's lips again, whispered and sweet. And then they were kissing. Harry shoved against the wall of an abandoned classroom and Draco bearing over him, a hand on the wall of either side of Harry. The passion, the fire as they touched one another, exploring what had been hidden by taunts and snide remarks. Recollections of Harry meeting Draco in secret beneath his invisibility cloak, at Hogsmeade, wherever they were able to steal a moment alone. Voldemort squirmed further.

But, the memories continued. "They'll be waiting for you… - The Boy who Scored – or whatever it is they're calling you these days." A smirk had been given alongside the statement, both of them aware Draco hadn't been talking about quidditch.

A new warmth blossomed inside of Harry, forcing away the frost of Lord Voldemort. It sparked like kindle, giving birth to brilliant, red flame.

"You're the weak one." His voice escaped him, fully his own and without distortion this time. "You'll never know love, or friendship, and I feel sorry for you."

Voldemort gave a sudden, final movement, raging against the confines of Harry. Harry's lungs were cleared, exhaling Lord Voldemort and the chill and pain that went with it. His arms gave out, having not realized he was elevating his torso in the first place, and he fell, face pressing to the cold, black tile of the ministry.

Xxxx

Harry had passed through the reminder of the night in a blur, not fully there. He remembered his friends rushing into the atrium, having escaped enemies of their own. He remembered the vibrant green that lined the corridor, floos igniting as death eaters escaped and order members joined them. He faintly remembered the mauve colored, silk, pajamas that the Minister had worn and his mussed up, silver hair. The look of shock that formed on his face as Harry was finally validated.

But, the pain had been too great. There had been too much loss, too many deaths that were his fault and tonight and claimed another, Sirius.

He'd had one thing on his mind since the possession of Lord Voldemort, the fair-haired boy he had once called his boyfriend. Harry had been too terrified of the darkness that threatened to consume Draco, experiencing enough of it in his life, and had ended things between them. But, now, he wanted nothing more to be held in Draco arms, unable to be comforted by anyone else, not the way he needed to, and that's the direction he had gone.

I need to see you.

The blue doe burst from the tip of his wand, galloping in a circle around him before disappearing. Harry stood in the unoccupied classroom only three doors away from the Slytherin common room, their usual spot. It didn't matter that it was three am, Draco would find him.

Harry waited impatiently until finally, after he was quite certain he had aged a few years, the door squeaked open.

"Potter?" Draco hissed inside the room, and Harry rushed to him. The door was shut firmly, and Harry took only enough time to cast a locking charm before he made his needs known. It wouldn't stop anyone from coming in, but it would give them time to break apart, should Professor Snape come knocking.

Harry felt the hesitation beneath his lips, the stiffness of Draco's body as the other boy tried to work out what was happening. He felt a familiar wetness drifting down his cheeks, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Potter, wha-"

Harry shook his head. "It'll be in the Prophet tomorrow. For now, just love me."

Draco's lips thinned as he considered the prospect, his eyes flicking between Harry's. "Get over here, you git."

Harry obliged.


	3. Grow Old with Me

**Summary: No longer young boys, Draco reflects on the life he and Harry have led together and how much he loves the "Boy who Lived". A sequel of sorts to "Comfort in Unusual Places" and "The Smutty Collection".**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling**

**Prompt: The Fates have spoken: you've drawn The Lovers, upright. This card represents union, partnerships, and duality. It means there is trust and harmony between two people. You will right a story that encapsulates these ideals and shows them present in either one single event or in short vignettes of a long period of time. Your words will total between 504 and 980**

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Harry's scar had long ago faded into his wrinkles, with it went his notoriety. His defeat of Lord Voldemort hadn't been forgotten, but sixty one years had passed since that day. Harry had become a legend, a name whispered with a certain reverence that few could obtain during their lives. But, gone was the recognition, the questions on how he did it. He and Draco were free now to live their lives – together.

Draco wished his dark mark had done the same. It had faded, yes, and age depleted it's appearance even more, but it was still there, still visible, still a reminder of the things he had done. No matter how many years passed, he still wondered how Harry was able to see past the mistakes and recognize the broken boy that Draco was underneath. Why Harry had come to him of all people when he was in need. Draco had long ago lost count of the times they had been there for each other, but a few instances stood out in his mind.

"It'll be in the Prophet tomorrow. For now, just love me." Draco had obliged. Despite the heartbreak they had caused one another only weeks before, he never have could denied Harry that night. The pain in his eyes when he had come to him, the desperation, the need to be comforted. Harry had been through enough horrors in his life. He needed every sliver of love he was offered.

He had been right, the events of that night had been published in the Prophet the next day. Draco had been angry at first, seeing his father slandered across the cover with many others. Harry had humiliated the man, had put him on the Dark Lord's bad side (that is, if he even had a good side). Harry had jeopardized the Malfoy family and Draco had been able to feel little else but rage. What space in him was left was filled with confusion.

Lord Voldemort had been there, had tried to kill Harry and nearly succeeded, but that wasn't what confused him. Harry had faced the monster four other times before that evening, had witnessed death with every interaction, but none had destroyed him as much as that night in the Ministry.

It was Sirius, he knew that now. He'd found out some time afterwards. Harry had lost the man that was supposed to be his family. That was what had changed between Harry and Draco, had finally brought them back together. Harry had been in pain, Draco suspected he still was to this day, and Draco had been the only one to provide the comfort that Harry needed. The only one to make him feel loved. Draco had sworn to himself that he would continue doing so for the rest of his life.

And Harry was there just as much for him.

The day the war ended had been a devastating one for both of them. They both lost friends, people they considered family. Draco had lost Harry himself. He would never forget that terror he felt when he saw Harry's limp form cradled in Hagrid's arms. His head lolling like a ragdoll's. The fear that the Dark Lord had conquered wasn't his main concern, not like everyone else. The memory still constricted his breathing, tightened every muscle in his body as he thought of how close he had come to losing the love of his life.

Harry hadn't been the only loss. His mother and father had been lucky to survive themselves, had abandoned the war effort at the last possible moment, but they had survived. Others hadn't been so lucky. Friends of the family, even his aunt, had lost their lives, people they were close to. They may have been Death Eaters, but they were important to the Malfoys all the same. The death of his professor, his godfather was the hardest.

That of Snape was the one death he and Harry had in common. The one death that affected them both nearly equally.

In the days, the weeks, the months after the war ended they had been there for one another. The majority of their time was spent in each other's company. Draco remembered with laughter, and perhaps a slight cringe, when Harry had discovered, had explained, the funny collection Draco had been harboring. They'd spent the remainder of that evening trying each toy out, pleasuring one another. It was perhaps the first day since that fateful one in May that they were able to laugh, to enjoy one another, without the reminder of their actions.

Draco had proposed three days later.

"Of course I'll marry you, you ferret." Harry had laughed as if there had ever been a doubt. In Draco's mind there hadn't been.

Draco stared across the table at the "Boy who Lived" the "boy that was his". Strands of hair that long ago turned silver hung into his green eyes as he stared down into the plate in front of him. "Harry." He lifted his eyes, green meeting silver and Draco couldn't help but smile. "Happy 60th anniversary."


	4. Anything for Love

**Summary: Having no other choice, (or desire), Harry saves Draco from certain death. The two of them share a special moment before they're forced to pick sides and doomed to return to a war they never wanted to fight.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.**

**Prompt: The needs of the many are worth fighting for, worth dying for, but so are the needs of the few. The needs of one. Drarry + throwing it all on the line for love. Minimum: 340 words - Maximum: 640 words.**

**The maximum for this prompt wasn't even close to being long enough! The restriction nearly killed me.**

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Harry flew through the tendrils of smoke, weaving his way through stacks of long-ago discarded items. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Draco, his nearly white hair stark in the growing, black smoke. Fear overtook him as Draco climbed the mountain of furniture, flame licking at his heels.

Draco gave a look behind him, a terror filled glance over his shoulder. At his friend, or the growing fire, Harry wasn't sure. He swore to himself, knowing what he had to do. It hadn't been the first time he'd saved the other boy's life and he had a tingling feeling it wouldn't be the last.

He maneuvered his broom into a tight dive, feeling the heat grow in intensity against his skin. He heard a shout of anger behind him, Ron, he was sure of it. He paid his friend no attention, knowing this was more important. He couldn't leave Draco behind. Begrudgingly, he realized he'd have to save Goyle too.

Edging closer to the soon to be charred boys, he outstretched his arm. Draco gripped his hand instantaneously, his palm moist with sweat. A tingle ran up Harry's skin at the touch, activating every nerve. He pulled against Draco, attempting to heave him upwards, but the weight of Goyle was too much and Draco slipped from his grasp.

Harry shot a panicked look at Ron whose mouth was downturned, and had agitation lining his forehead. But, he knew what Harry was asking and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Harry made another circle around the trapped Slytherins, coming to their aid again.

"Leave him!" He shouted over the crackle of flame, reaching out again. Draco hesitated, opting to stay with his friend instead. "Oh, for the sake of Merlin!" He jerked his head towards Ron. "I didn't mean permanently."

Draco's Adam's apple lurched upward as he swallowed, allowing Harry to pull him onto his broom. The cleansweep gave beneath the sudden weight, dropping several centimeters before Harry was able to regain control. He turned towards the exit, the broom gaining speed as Draco's arms were tightened around his waist.

"You never did learn, did you?"

"Shut up and get us out of here, Potter." Draco growled against his back. His voice dripped with venom, but the way he clung to Harry gave him away. It was a continuation of how their relationship had always been, insults thrown to cover up the intimate touches, the whispers in each other's ears under the cover of night.

Harry felt the rise and fall of Draco's chest against his own back, paying more attention to that than flying. The two of them grew close to the ground, broom heading between the large, wooden doors that led them to safety. He hadn't bothered to slow, knowing Hermione had the horcrux, zooming instead down a corridor. He turned down the maze of hallways, until they found themselves alone. He dropped lower, worn trainers meeting stone and sending the two of them toppling.

"I thought you were supposed to be a quidditch legend." Draco shot him a glare as he stood, dusting grit from his black trousers.

"And I thought you were smart enough not to get messed up with the Death Eaters." Harry turned so fast to face him that Draco stared back in surprise. He wound his fingers into the strands of golden hair, pulling tight so as to bring the other boy to him. "Don't be daft." He whispered against the skin of Draco's lips before he pressed himself to him. Draco froze beneath his touch, the only movement in that of his tongue as he met Harry's. "You know what side is right. Don't help him win." The words were muttered breathlessly as they separated, knowing there was a war they had to get back to.

"…I won't."


	5. Beside the Train with an Old Flame

**Summary: After years of a strained relationship and little communication, Draco and Harry run into each other while dropping their children off at Platform 9 3/4.**

**Prompt: Conversations on Platform 9 3/4 dropping off kids or waiting for them to arrive. Minimum: 114 words - Maximum 841 words.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.**

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With his hand on Scorpius' shoulder and his wife beside him, Draco stared up at the brilliant red steam engine. Puffs emanating from the top as it prepared for it's journey. He couldn't believe that his little Scorpion would be on it this year.

He and Astoria had thought about keeping their son home this year, giving him more time with his Mother as her life was slowly siphoned away, but they couldn't jeopardize his schooling like that. Perhaps Durmstrang or even Beauxbatons would be more accommodating to their situation, but neither of them were Hogwarts. Draco wanted so badly for his son to follow a better example than he had. With McGonagall as Headmistress, there wasn't a better place Scorpius' could go.

The death eaters had been snuffed out years ago, their dark presence gone from any school, but with them didn't go complete darkness. Witches and wizards existed in this world and it was only a matter of time before one of them rose up again. Before someone else sought what Grindlewald and Lord Voldemort had failed to accomplish.

Scorpius needed to be prepared for that eventuality. He needed to attend Hogwarts, to gain an education, friends, to be something in this world. He would see his mother on breaks and a select few weekends of the year, and that would have to be enough. He knew of his mother's curse, it had been the only thing he'd known. He'd grown up knowing his Mum wouldn't always be there. It was a devastating circumstance, but it was theirs all the same. Life couldn't be put on hold forever.

Scorpius pulled away, his platinum hair bouncing as he ran towards the train. Astoria hurried after him, desperate for a few minutes more with her son and leaving Draco to stand alone on the platform. He scanned the crowd, searching for people he had known. He wouldn't approach any of them, not now. He'd been cruel to far too many of them, blinded by hatred that had been ingrained in him.

Now, he was approaching forty. He was no longer the young boy swept up in a war he didn't understand. Even his Slytherin mates were out of the question these days. Crabbe had passed away in his own fiend fyre during the battle, and Goyle had been imprisoned – a fate Draco was lucky not to share. There was Pansy. Out of any of them, she would be the one he would choose. She had been cruel in her own right, a bully, a blood purist like him, and maybe part of her still was. But, now, as Draco watched her across the platform, she was something else as well. A mother, a wife, an adult. They were no longer children after all. Their actions had true consequences and maybe she had learned her lesson like he.

Draco turned away from her, eyes falling on a pack of red hair that could be none other than the Weasleys. Red headed children surrounded them, save for a few, but what stood out amongst the sea of rust was the ever bushy, brunette Hermione. Another regret of his.

Standing among the edge of Weasleys was someone far more familiar, that held a recognition more intimate than any of the other sods in the building – including his wife. Harry Potter. Draco's eyes lingered, unable to help himself.

Perhaps Harry too could feel the charged air between them, the way it sparked with attraction, for his head was lifted, his bright green eyes flecked with gold meeting Draco's own. He broke the contact, leaning into Ginny and whispering something that caused her to nod.

Before Draco could react, Harry was weaving the crowd. People stopped him, muttering their hellos and "how have you beens". Each was responded in a rush before Harry was able to tear himself away, taking only a couple short steps before he was stopped by another.

"The ever famous Harry Potter." Draco smirked once Harry was within earshot.

"You kill one dark wizard and you're branded for life." He rubbed at the faded scar on his forehead.

Silence fell between them. It had been years since they'd spoken And even longer since they'd had a proper conversation. Before that, Draco could admit they hadn't done much talking at all, finding other things to do with their mouths.

"You can stop staring now. My presence is just as welcome here as yours."

Harry gave a tiny jerk of his head. "It wasn't that I didn't expect it, per say…I hadn't realized our boys were the same age."

"That's it then? You reserved me a curious glare because our wives happened to conceive at the same time?"

"You look well, Draco. It's…it's been some time, hasn't it?"

Draco stared back at him, no longer the boy with which he had made out with, had shagged in abandoned classrooms, the room of requirement, even one hurried moment atop Snape's desk. Now, black hair was gradually being replaced by silver and lines had begun to form. Harry was still young, having just turned 37, but the stress of his early life and surely the stress of no longer knowing what to do with himself had aged him. Not that Draco didn't mind the silver fox standing before him. "As do you."

"Scorpius then? That's his name?" He cocked his head in the direction of the little blond boy meters away, one that only a Malfoy could produce.

"Yes. Unlike yourself, I was creative, Potter. Did Ginny get to name any of them?"

Harry shook his head, puffing out his chest. "Seeing as I did all the hard work, we thought it'd only be appropriate that I should name them.

"Two minutes of grunting and thrusting, hard work indeed." Draco rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, earning him a soft punch to the shoulder.

"Two minutes." Harry shook his head. "Give me more credit than that."

"Alright, three." When Harry looked as though he might hit him again, Draco hurried on. "Alright, alright. Albus Severus is just a fitting name, that's all."

"Fitting?"

"For sentimental Gryffindors, yes."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Are we just going to discuss our children's names, then? Is that all our relationship has boiled down to?"

"What other discussion would you like to have? I'm afraid I'm not up for a debate on the works of Shakespeare."

"Like you know who he is." Harry scoffed. "Just seeing you, here, makes me wonder how different our lives could have been. Had we-"

"Had you not ended things? You made that decision for us."

"Yes, when you were a death eater." The last two words were hissed quieter than the others, an act for which Draco was thankful for.

Once a death eater, always a death eater. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yes-"

"Then why for Salazar's sake is your child named after Snape."

He was silent, staring down at his shoes as he formulated his answer. "You know as well as I how complicated the war was. Maybe the lines weren't as clearly defined as I once thought."

"Is this supposed to be an apology?"

"The mark didn't define every part of you, just the darkness you felt needed controlling. I know that now."

"The apology comes a little to late, Potter. See that beautiful brunette? Beside the train with Scorpius?"

"She's your wife, I know." The tone in his voice surprised him. There was a want there that Draco hadn't heard in so long. A want he desperately wanted to return.

"Don't sound so disheartened. We're happy together. I won't ruin what I have with her to answer a deeper attraction. Just as you shouldn't with Ginny."

Harry was silent. His eyes fogged with something Draco didn't understand. "What we had was…"

"Passionate? Carnal?"

Harry frowned. "Well, yes, but I was thing more along the lines of 'nice' or 'wonderful'. You were my first love."

"And you mine." Draco glanced over his shoulder before his hand brushed the skin of Harry's. Their pinkies found one another and wrapped themselves together in a sort of pinky promise. "But, that doesn't mean there can't be another, or that it ended."

Harry opened his mouth to speak when the whistle of the train sounded. The noise on the platform grew as final goodbyes were uttered, Draco and Harry's among them. Whatever Harry had been about to say was now lost as Harry turned away, pulling his hand free, and returned to his waiting family.


	6. Caught in the Act

**Summary: Harry agreed to meet Draco in one of the many abandoned classrooms along the dungeon corridors. Maybe if he hadn't been late, maybe if they hadn't made too much noise, maybe they wouldn't have been caught in such a compromising position.**

**Detention Prompt 1: Your first Detention will be served with Filch - You must write or draw Drarry + Hogwarts Detention - either 1) Receiving the detention -OR- 2) Serving the detention.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.**

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The classroom was dark, abandoned, and riddled with forgotten furniture. Harry had agreed to meet him here over an hour ago, and still he hadn't showed. Desperate for me to get detention. Draco grumbled to himself, straightening in the seat he had been waiting in. Heaving a sigh, he stood, just as the door to the room gave a squeak.

"Where in Merlin's sake have you been, Potter?" Malfoy chastised, catching the glint of light off Harry's glasses. "We agreed to meet at eight, or had you forgotten?" Again.

"Shut your yap, Malfoy. It's after curfew. You're lucky I'm here at all." He slipped inside, shutting the heavy door behind him.

"I'm lucky? I'm lucky?" He felt the timbre of his voice rise dangerously, threatening to seep beneath the crack of the door and alert Filch to their presence. "I was about to leave when your sorry ass showed up."

Harry crossed the room towards him in several large footsteps. 'I'm sorry, alright?" He kissed Draco's resistant lips, getting nothing in return. "Ron's nervous about the upcoming game, he dragged practice out. I told him I was behind on homework and was able to escape."

Draco softened, even if the mention of Weasley irked him. It was a valid excuse. "You better do your homework then." He loosened the emerald green tie around his neck, tossing it to the ground. "Uranus is in retrograde, I believe it needs studying." His lips quirked into a coy smile, earning him nothing but a stare in return.

"Was that supposed to be a pick-up line? Because it was truly, quite awful." Harry smiled back, but one that was meant to hide laughter, not the implications of sex.

Draco felt his pale skin flush and looked away, wishing he hadn't lit a lantern. They knew by now which pegs fit in which holes and how to get them there. Light was no longer a necessity. Too focused on the chair beside him, the one he had previously occupied, he hadn't noticed Harry. He hadn't heard the other boy shift closer toward him, or the way Harry stared at him, no longer in hilarity. Instead, a thumb came up, gently brushing the blonde stubble on Draco's chin. Draco turned.

There was a softness in Harry's eyes, a warmth. Staring at them was like falling into a hot summer's evening, like basking beneath the sun. Draco had the desire to be the subject of the gaze forever. Harry pressed closer still, removing all distance between them. His soft lips were on Draco's who suddenly found himself self-conscious of his own – had he used Chapstick? He focused instead on the taste of chocolate frogs drifting from Harry's mouth as he snogged him.

He felt the length of Harry – his chest, his abdomen, his pelvis, press into him and all other thoughts dissipated. His blood pumped with a singular need, a need for Harry, and he returned the gesture, allowing his lips to part. His fingers fumbled in practiced movement, slowly sliding each white button from its hole while Harry did the same, both of them undressing the other.

Harry's tongue slipped inside his mouth then, drawing circles against Draco's tongue and pulling a groan from deep within his throat. He began working on Harry's belt buckle, undoing the clasp. He could feel the bulge in Harry's pants press against him and he allowed his hand to wander along the hem of Harry's pants, feeling the short hair that lay beneath. He smiled beneath Harry's lips, knowing how much he hated to be teased.

Harry's hands slid beneath Draco's unbuttoned shirt, his fingernails dragging against the smooth skin until they reached his sides. "Draco." He murmured, barely comprehensible between kisses. Draco stepped back, Harry following suit, as they searched for a desk, a wall, anywhere to take this further, and leaving their clothes behind.

Draco felt his hip brush against a piece of furniture, and he pushed against it harder, meaning to pull Harry on top of him. A clatter filled the room as what had been a chair, rather than a desk, toppled to the ground. The two of them collided painfully with the stone, still intertwined with one another. Harry swore, separating himself from Draco in an attempt to stand when the door was flung open.

Light from the corridor illuminated everything, their near naked bodies wrapped up with one another, the puddle of clothes a meter away, and the silhouette of Professor Snape in the doorway glaring down at them.

Harry looked away, scrambling off the other boy. He stood, hand covering his still lingering erection. Draco remained put, ignoring the gaze of fury coming from his Godfather, his head of house, and wishing for death instead.

Professor Snape took purposeful yet silent strides toward them, reaching the bundle of clothing and tossing it towards them. "Dress yourselves, now." His words were slow, voice far lower than its usual baritone. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, each." He glared at them in turn, his eyes careful not to stray lower than their throats. "Keep it in your pants, or a spell will do just that."

As his trousers were pulled up, Draco glanced down at the wand that his Professor had brandished. Seventeen years spent in the presence of this man had ensured that Draco knew one thing. Snape didn't joke around when it came to threats.

He turned, black cape billowing after him as he moved again towards the corridor. "Detention, both of you." He barked over his shoulder. "Separately."


	7. Draco Malfoy and the Chamber of Secrets

**Summary: In the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter is given more support than a bird and a tattered old hat. It comes in the shape of one Draco Malfoy.**

**Prompt: The Fates have spoken. You have drawn The Chariot card, upright. You will write about direction, control, and willpower. You will channel the element of water. You may read the full description of the upright card here for more inspiration. The powers that be sense your story will be between 349 words and 993 words.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.**

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A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, gripping a ragged bundle. The bird stopped. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.

"That's a phoenix…." Said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"Fawkes?" Harry breathed, and he felt the bird's golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently.

"And that –" Said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped. "That's the old school Sorting Hat –" Riddle began to laugh. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do You feel safe now?"

"He should." Another voice broke through, trembling slightly, but loud enough to carry his words across the cragged tunnel. The boyish grin that had spread across Riddle's face curdled into one of displeasure, as if the new presence physically pained him.

Harry looked over the shoulder that wasn't occupied by a phoenix and was surprised at what – or who – he found. Draco stood, his chest puffed out, and a determined – if frightened – expression on his face.

"Get out of here!" Harry hissed, causing Draco's smile to drop. He had already killed Quirrell, perhaps inadvertently, but he was dead all the same. Harry didn't want to add Draco's name to that same list. He was grateful the other boy had showed up, that he wasn't alone, but he couldn't let him stay.

"It's no matter." Riddle sneered, voice slicing through the new tension that had appeared. "No witch or wizard can match my powers, even those that aren't eleven."

"Twelve." Harry and Draco growled in return, as if it made any difference. Harry was half tempted to point out he had defeated Voldemort once before, at just over a year old, but it could only make the situation worse. He glanced down at the nearly lifeless body of Ginny, the concern of how they were going to save her, and themselves flitting through his mind.

Riddle didn't waste his breath on the concern of two young boys. Instead, the stone wall in front of him began to shift, the mouth that had been chiseled into stone sliding open. He heard the shift of something beside him and glanced to the side. Draco stared back in determination, his steps having been muted by the movement of stone.

"Kill him."

Harry's head snapped back to the visage of Riddle and then to the now open mouth. The thud of a great beast sounded, echoing through the chamber. Harry felt a flicker of relief that Draco was beside him, that Fawkes and the sorting hat weren't his only weapons. He had drawn his wand without fully realizing it, without knowing any spell that could save them.

The basilisk appeared then, his thick body slithering across the stone, his forked tongue flickering out from beneath his scaled lips. Harry began to run, hearing Draco stepping carefully behind him. Harry slid, splashing into a puddle beneath him. and falling hard to the ground. As the taste of blood filled his mouth, he felt the hands of Draco grace his arm, tugging him upwards. Free standing water dripped from his clothes as they hurried farther away, the sound of the great snake growing closer.

The two of them rounded a tunnel, colliding into a dead end. Harry turned, his back pressing into the metal bars and Draco beside him. "You shouldn't have come."

"Yeah…yeah, I reckon it wasn't my best idea. Impending death and all." Draco swallowed, eyes glued ahead, waiting for the basilisk. He twisted his wand in his hand, tightening his grip.

"How did you find me? How did you get past the-" A loud screech met their ears, followed by a roar of protest from Riddle and drowning out any attempt of conversation. They could hear the sound of slithering again, ending their quick reprieve.

"He'll find us." Draco muttered, resigned. "They use heat to find food."

"Great, what do you suggest then?" Harry swallowed as his hand found Draco's in the dim cavern. "In case we don't make it out, just-"

"I know, me too." He smiled back. "Hold your breath."

"Don't you mean –"

"No, hold your breath. As in fill your lungs with air and shut your gob."

Harry did as he was told, drawing in a large breath of air and puffing his cheeks as the basilisk rounded the corner. Blood dripped from his now missing eyes, but it faced their direction all the same. Harry was about to release his breath, to take control of the situation himself when Draco's arm was raised, a shout coming from him. "Permadesco!"

Water erupted from the tip of his wand, flooding the chamber around them. Cold water soaked through their clothes, pressing into their skin as the level steadily rose around them. Ginny. He shook Draco, urging him to stop before she drowned.

"It won't affect her!" He shouted, seeming to read Harry's desperation before the two of them were swallowed up.

The snake thrashed in the icy waves, distracting it enough that Harry was able to swim toward it unnoticed. One hand gripped the snake, the other still tight around the sorting hat. He felt the fabric go hard beneath his fingers, as if something lingered beneath it. He stopped his climbing, reaching inside and drawing out a sword.

Harry stared at it, gobsmacked. He turned the sword in the light, the silver reflecting what little light filled the chamber. A wicked smile crossed his face and he drew it upwards, stabbing it through the beast's throat. It gave a final screech of pain before its heavy body fell to the ground, tossing Harry into the water below with another splash. Harry swam to the surface, blood tinged water now nearly reaching the top. Draco reached him and the two of them continued to swim, knowing Riddle and Ginny would be waiting for them.


	8. Aiding and Abetting

**Summary: In the dark and musty recesses of the Ministry, Draco and Harry serve their suspension. Harry had come to Draco's aid, that's what landed him here beside him, but he hadn't known the details of what Draco had done. Not until now.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling**

**Prompt: Your second Detention will be served with Robards - You must write or draw Harry or Draco + consequences for breaking the rules/breaking the law at the Ministry - either 1) how it happens -OR- 2) the punishment.**

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A shuffle of pages and a muttered profanity from across the desk illuminated Harry to Draco's frustrations. He looked up from his own paper, glancing at the blond through his eyelashes. Though several thoughts crossed his mind, he kept his mouth shut.

In the days following the attack, Draco had said nothing. His features had formed into a permanent line of displeasure. Of depression. Even in the dank, lower level of the Ministry in which they sat, Harry could see the same sorrow that had plagued him since. Draco now sat across from him, his filings forgotten as he slumped in his chair, squeezing his finger.

"Paper cut." He muttered in exasperation.

Harry stood in silence, bringing his Holly wand with him. He knelt in front of Draco, prying the hurt hand out of the grasp of the other one. He stared at the red cut, threatening to bleed, and whispered a simple healing charm. He didn't consider himself practiced in this area of magic, but he knew enough and at times like this he was grateful.

They both watched wordlessly as Draco's skin stitched itself back together, removing all evidence of the injury. When it was closed, Harry lifted his chin, staring into eyes the color of ash, of smoke that usually betrayed the fire that raged within him. Now, though, they had dimmed. The firelight that lit the basement office glistened off the wet surface of his eyes. Draco closed his lids, embarrassed perhaps by the emotion that swim within him. Still, Harry said nothing. Instead, he remained in his position on the hard wood, gripping Draco's hand.

"We should get back to work." He mumbled, attempting to pry his hand from Harry's.

"It can wait. Robards will live."

Draco's chest lifted in a scoff at the name of their supervisor. "He might, but I'm not sure he'll let me."

Harry didn't laugh, didn't move. They were both lucky they hadn't been fired, a threat that hadn't entirely passed.

A droplet escaped from the growing pool of tears, wetting Draco's eyelashes. "I'm trying to right my wrongs, to fix the choices I never should have made, but others can't see it the same way." The fingers of his left hand gave an instinctive twitch, reacting to the ugly brand that had been carved into his skin. The one Draco had been proud of only a few short years before. "They see us as deserters, that we changed sides to save our own skin." He was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was just above a whisper. "Which I guess we are."

"Is that what he said?" Harry asked, referring to the man that had landed them here.

Draco gave a single jerk of his head, one Harry would have missed if he hadn't been watching so intently. "He's glad my father's dead. Wished he had been the one to kill the blood purist. The death eater."

Something told Harry the actual words had been laced with expletives. He remembered how the man had laughed, how Draco's face had flushed with anger, and how the man laughed even harder as a reaction, but that wasn't when Draco had withdrawn his wand, had cast the unforgivable.

"He was explicit in the things he wanted to do with my mother. He called her a…" Draco's voice cut off, unable to say anymore as his throat closed in frustration, in guilt, in every other emotion that had flooded him in the days that led to this moment.

Harry remembered hearing "Narcissa", how her name had floated to him. He'd only caught an odd word of the conversation, just enough to piece together that it wasn't a friendly interaction. Draco's wand had slid into his hand after that and the man had hit the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. All humor had washed from his face, replaced by that of agony as his body writhed from the spell. Harry had been the one to end it, to disarm Draco and take his wand. He had stunned the accuser, leaving passersby to deal with him as the two of them fled. That spell is what had landed him beside Draco in suspension, had landed them here.

Anger wasn't a strong enough word to describe Robards. His voice had been loud, abrasive. Every word crystal clear through the wooden door that separated the two of them as they were scolded separately. Harry hadn't known the specifics of what the citizen had said, not until now, only that Robards didn't regard Draco's actions as justified.

When it was Harry's turn, Robard's face had been beet red with fury, disappointment, as his jowls wobbled with his screams. He had scolded him for aiding Draco in the attack, threatened to fire them both. Harry had only sent the stunner to prevent the citizen from striking back and escalating the situation further, but he would have always come to Draco's aid. Harry knew he wouldn't have lashed out without a justifiable cause. He had been there once upon a time, had tried to cast a cruciatus after Bellatrix had taunted him. Even though he knew what Draco had done wasn't right, he knew where the desire to hurt, to make the words stop had come from.

He stood then, pulling his hand from Draco's whose had now gone limp. Harry brushed Draco's forehead with a gentle kiss before placing another on his lips. "I would have done the same."

Draco opened his eyes then, looking at Harry with surprised relief. Harry realized that it had been more than the insults, his actions, that had plagued Draco, but how he thought Harry would react too.


End file.
